


I would give myself away

by disappointionist



Category: Game Grumps
Genre: Drinking, M/M, Unresolved Feelings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-30
Updated: 2016-06-30
Packaged: 2018-07-19 05:41:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,081
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7347409
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/disappointionist/pseuds/disappointionist
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>'Dan can’t deny Arin anything, at least when he looks as weary about Dan’s answer as he does at that moment.'</p>
            </blockquote>





	I would give myself away

 

Fall in Los Angeles never feels quite right to Dan. He knows it’s there, but it’s not tangible. Sometimes he misses the fall, the way it was in New York, like when he walks between the sushi place he and Arin just had lunch at, and the Starbucks they’re picking up coffee from. He wants to say something about it, along the lines of ‘Wouldn’t it be neat if we could actually be chilly from this walk and _then_ get coffee’. But Arin interrupts his train of thought by making a sharp turn and walking a few steps back the way they came.

“Hey look, music quiz for old people like you, Dan!” Arin exclaims.

Dan laughs in spite of himself. “Thanks dude,” he says, but he looks at the window Arin is pointing at anyway. It’s a bar, not one of the shiny hip ones, but the cozier kind. The sign saying ‘Music Quiz - Rock of the 70’s and 80’s’ is hand lettered on chalkboard.

“Oh, yeah well this actually does sound like something I’d be good at,” Dan says. “At least it has the decency to not _say_ it’s for old people.”

“It’s tonight,” Arin reads, before turning to Dan. “We should go later.”

“Arin, you hate bars,” Dan reminds him as they start walking again.

“Yeah but, like, doesn’t it seem fun?” Arin shrugs at first, but raises one eyebrow.

“I mean yeah, I guess so. You sure?” Dan asks. He can’t resist smiling, because he thinks there’s a possibility that Arin might be insisting for Dan’s sake, not for his own. And that’s actually very sweet.

“Yeah man,” Arin says. “I mean I won’t be any good on your team, but still, I think it’d be cool.”

Dan huffs. “You’re always good on my team.”

“Aww,” Arin says. He pauses, smirking at Dan. “Are you going soft on me Daniel?”

“Shut up, you like it,” Dan says, shaking his head. He looks ahead, down the street and wonders if he already had plans for tonight, but he doesn’t care enough to check his calendar.

“Meh. You’re okay,” Arin replies offhandedly.

Dan laughs, “I’ll take okay.”  

 

It’s early evening, and the bar half full when Dan enters it. He went home to change and grab something to eat before heading out again. Arin is alone at a corner table, he meets Dan’s eyes before the door has even swung shut behind him. Dan is struck with the memory of the first day they met. The sushi place where they had talked for ages through their nervousness. Dan had gone to the bathroom by the end of the meal and when he returned, Arin had looked up the very same second and smiled. He had seen Arin as his friend then, and by god had it felt good.

“Hey man,” Dan says now as he sits down on the chair next to Arin. It has it’s back against the wall which is Dan’s preference. Arin doesn’t have to point it out for Dan to know that it’s intentional.

“I didn’t get you anything yet, because I wasn’t sure what you’d want,” Arin says, without greeting.

“No Suzy?” Dan asks, not because he ignores what Arin is saying, but because he had assumed she’d be there.

“No. She’s hanging out with some girlfriends.” Arin says, shrugging.

“Oh,” Dan says. “Well, I’m good for now.” He shrugs out of his jacket and hangs it over the back of his chair.

“You cool with it being just us?” Arin asks. He’s biting on his lower lip and Dan frowns.

“Yeah of course, dude. It’s been ages since we hung out together,” Dan says. “I mean, outside of grumps sessions and travel that is,” he adds with a laugh.

“Okay, good,” Arin says, leaning back in his seat.

Dan is slightly puzzled by this, the way Arin seemed almost nervous over Dan’s reaction, when Dan’s pretty sure that he complains regularly about how the two of them never get the time to hang out as much anymore. But he doesn’t say anything about it.

“I thought I was clear about you being the only one I want on my team, anyway,” Dan says to lighten up the mood.

Arin laughs, which translates in Dan’s mind as them being okay.

“Thanks dude, I promise I will only do mildly terrible for your sake,” Arin says.

 

Arin gets them the paper slip they’re supposed to use for the quiz, which starts in fifteen minutes. When Dan scans the room, it seems that most teams are at least four people. He wonders if there is a built in rule for being a smaller team, but then thinks that he didn’t come here to win anyway.

“Uhm,” Arin begins slowly. Dan turns his head and looks at him, eyebrow raised.

“Yeah?” he says, just in case Arin is going to trail off into a whatever of lost-thought.

“Well,” Arin says, just as slow.

Dan realizes that this might not just be absentminded Arin trying to regain his line of inquiry, but something more. He’s quiet for the next few moments, waiting Arin out.

“You know how I agreed to do shots on the next stream when we hit that goal?” Arin says, eyes directed down at the table.

“Sure,” Dan says, looking at Arin who still isn’t looking at Dan. “You having second thoughts?” he asks carefully.

“What?” Arin looks up with a deer in headlight-kind of expression. “No! I mean… That’s not what I was-” he pauses, sighing.

“Dude, it’s okay,” Dan reassures him quickly. “Go on? Please?”

“Well,” Arin starts. “I just… I don’t want my first time doing shots to be broadcast live,” he says.

It hits Dan in half-surprise, half-amusement. What Arin is asking, what he’s so nervous about.  

“Oh,” he says, unable to fight a smile. “Is this why it’s just me here?” he asks.

“I guess?” Arin scrunches up his face, as if he’s embarrassed by what he’s saying. “That and the fact that Suzy really is out with her girlfriends, actually,” he adds with a short laugh. He pauses, eyes flickering over the room before they focus on Dan again. “I kind of figured, if I were with you it’d be fine and you wouldn’t judge because you’re... you,” Arin says.

“Okay,” Dan answers, because he can’t deny Arin anything when he looks as weary about Dan’s answer as he does at that moment. “Fine. But let’s… Let’s have a beer or a glass of wine before we do shots. Because, well, both because I don’t think you should start with the hard alcohol, and also because I’m not sure I can do a music quiz while doing shots,” he says, half-smiling tentatively at Arin.

“Yeah. Yeah, we can do that,” Arin says, and Dan likes the tone of relief in his voice.

 

Dan orders a glass of white wine and a beer, mostly so that Arin can pick whichever doesn’t taste terrible to him. The wine is kind of sweet, and Arin goes for that after a couple sips of each.

“Don’t drink too fast,” Dan tells him, wincing when he realizes how old it makes him sound. “Sorry,” he adds, and Arin’s laughter echoes into the wineglass.

The quiz starts, and even though Arin sits with his pen in hand on high-alert, Arin is pretty shit at it. Dan isn’t anywhere near as good as he could have been if the choices of brand of music for the lyrics and intro questions had been a little more of the sign-advertised rock. They still manage to do okay, and Arin high-fives Dan for knowing that the fire in a Swiss casino that led to ‘Smoke on the water’ started at a Frank Zappa concert. He also manages to mention seven Queen albums and through an incredibly lucky guess, Arin correctly answers Chevrolet Corvette when they are asked what kind of car Rick Allen was driving at the time of his accident.

 

A loud group of at least five people win in the end, so Dan and Arin decides to cheer even louder than them, hugging each other dramatically on their tied fourth place in the competition.

“Celebratory shots!” the winning team calls among each other. Arin and Dan’s eyes meet. They grin at each other, and with a nod from Dan, Arin heads off to the bar.

He comes back with four glasses of a shot that smells of cinnamon and something tangy.

“The bartender said this would do fine in tasting like candy while still doing, all the stuff a shot does,” Arin says, shoving two of the glasses over to Dan.

“You think I can do two?” Dan laughs.

“You’ll have to, tonight,” Arin replies. “I’m not going into this alone, that’s the point of this.”

“Point taken,” Dan says, picking up a glass and clinking it against Arin’s. “Cheers then.”

“Cheers,” Arin says, downing the shot before Dan has time to point out that it might be a bad idea to do so.

Naturally, Dan downs his own, just to make sure they’re even. It tastes of apple pie, warm and burning down his throat.

“That’s not too bad,” he says, humming against the rim of the glass.

 

Dan isn’t sure how much time that passes, but they down their second shot way earlier than they probably should. It was almost as easy to crave as actual apple pie, at first filling you up, then gradually making you think you can handle another slice, even though it would be way more reasonable to wait until evening to have more.

When Arin looks at Dan, soft eyed and nearly pouting for another, Dan obliges with far too short hesitation, only making Arin pinky-swear that there won’t be any more after that.

Three shots turn out to make them stupid not unlike how they act when they are tired and sugar high, and Dan is almost ashamed with how much he can take joy in that particular brand of giggly, dumb glee.

“You’re going to feel awful tomorrow,” he says, sitting close enough to brush shoulders with Arin. He doesn’t remember how it happened, but he’s clearly moved his chair.

“You’re going to feel awful,” Arin corrects him matter-of-factly. “We actually have no idea about me.”  

  
They don’t have any more shots, because Arin really does take his pinky-swears seriously, at least while drinking. Still, they stick around until the bar closes, devouring a plate of nachos when they both realize that they both are absolutely starving.

Dan can’t really walk in a straight line on their way to catch their uber, so he holds onto Arin, slinging his arm across his back, to make sure he at least has something.

 

Outside of Dan’s house, Arin tries to keep himself from sinking down to the ground whenever he starts laughing. And he laughs, a lot. Dan should find this troubling, should be angry with himself but Arin’s laughter is just always so damn contagious. So Dan laughs with him, one arm around Arin’s waist as he lets them inside of the house and they half-stumble through the hallway and into the living room.

They crash onto the couch. Or rather, Arin does, but manages to forget that they are holding onto each other and pulls Dan along with him. And Dan doesn’t mind, because the drunken stupidity hasn’t worn off yet, and he’s happy and possibly a little horny (a part of his drunk self that he had kind of forgotten all about) and Arin is so warm, soft, and solid all at once against him. Dan feels so safe, and he knows could just lean in further to the embrace, he could just touch Arin, because Arin is already cuddly and giggling hysterically and won’t mind at all.

But Dan can’t, because he’s Dan and this is Arin and Arin is drunk for possibly the first time in his life. Dan thinks that he might be at least a little less drunk, and having promised that he’ll take care of Arin, he will.

“Okay, let’s get you settled,” he says, untangling his arms from Arin and getting off the couch. “Don’t throw up on the floor, or I swear to god I’ll kill you,” he adds as he leans on the armrest to steady himself. “And at least get out of your pants.”

“No pants. No throwing up on the floor, got it,” Arin repeats, mumbling into one of the pillows.

 

When Dan returns with a couple of extra blankets, pillows, and a bucket, Arin is nearly asleep. His eyes are closed, face squished against the sofa. Dan smiles, kneeling down on the floor next to him, placing the bucket by the head end and draping the blankets over Arin’s body.

“Goodnight Arin,” Dan says softly, brushing some hair away from Arin’s brow.

Arin opens one eye, then the other, peering up at him. “‘Night Dan,” he whispers, lifting himself up on his elbow.

“Don’t hate me tomorrow,” Dan jokes quietly.  

“I won’t swear on it,” Arin replies, smiling while he says it. He looks to the side, at Dan’s hand which is still resting there, fingers moving idly over a lock of Arin’s hair.

“Oh,” Dan says, and he starts to draw his hand back.

But Arin moves first, his hand on Dan’s wrist, and then in his hair. Dan notes that Arin smells more like the bar, more like wine and cinnamon and citrus than he does of himself. But he feels the same, like he always does, like someone Dan can trust. Arin’s fingers splay over the back of Dan’s neck as he pulls him in.

“You’re very drunk,” Dan whispers, forcing himself to keep his eyes open, because perhaps he’ll be a little less stupid if he’s looking at it.

“I know,” Arin replies. He gives Dan’s neck one final coaxing push, and then their lips meet. It’s soft and short, but it makes Dan’s body tingle the same way the first shot had done. When Arin pulls back, his eyes are wide and dark, his tongue flicking over his lips.  

“I’ve-” he starts.

“Arin,” Dan interrupts him quickly, because he doesn’t think that he wants to hear this, at least not right now. “Please shut up,” he says, lifting his hand, caressing Arin’s face with his thumb, watching as Arin’s eyes fall shut at the contact.  

They share the same breaths, the same air. Dan presses the tip of his nose against Arin’s cheek. Arin wraps an arm around him and tilts his head up so that their noses brush together. _Big cat,_ Dan thinks, but says nothing.

“Stay,” Arin says, running his fingers through Dan’s hair.

Dan wants to say yes, so badly, and he would have, easily, if things had happened differently. He knows that he would have said yes if nothing at all had happened, if there had been no kiss. He would either way if he’d had another one of those shots.

“Until you fall asleep,” he tells Arin instead, already lying down next to him.

“Dan,” Arin whines, as he moves over to make more room. They’re facing each other, and Dan can tell that Arin is pouting in the dim light.

“It’s not an argument and if you treat it like one I will leave right now,” Dan says, shuffling so that he can rest his head on his own arm.

Arin falls quiet after that, his fingers lazily tangling in Dan’s hair. He shuts his eyes, letting out a soft breath as he does. Dan thinks that he wants to kiss Arin again, he wants to see if the tingling sensation is just from the alcohol, he wants to see what happens if he goes deeper, if he allows himself to venture into the depths of this thing that shouldn’t be a thing at all.

Dan waits until he thinks that Arin’s breathing is slow enough for him to be asleep. Then he slips out of Arin’s arms, and heads for his bedroom, telling himself that there’s nothing to regret just yet.

 

*

 

“Hey there,” Dan says quietly when Arin stirs and groans in a decidedly awale way. It’s early afternoon, and Dan’s sitting in the armchair reading.

“Fuck,” Arin grunts into his pillow. He’s quiet for a while after that, moving around until he’s resting his head in his hands, peeking over the armrest at Dan.

“Are you watching over me?” he asks.

“Maybe,” Dan says, smiling.

“You’re not hungover?” Arin asks, sinking down behind the armrest again.

“Oh I’m hungover alright,” Dan says with a low and raspy laugh. “I just have a two hour head start full of water and painkillers,” he admits.

“I feel like I might die,” Arin says, which just nearly makes Dan laugh again.

“You won’t. You’ll just feel that you might, until evening,” he says as reassuringly as he can.

Arin groans again. “I fucked something up last night, didn’t I?” he asks.

For a moment, Dan is silent, then he shakes his head before remembering that Arin can’t see it.

“Why do you think that?” he asks, putting his book down and walking over to sit on the edge of the couch. He wonders if Arin remembers the kiss, or that Dan wouldn’t talk about it after it happened. To be honest, he’s not even sure he wants to talk about it in his current state either, but it’s possible that he won’t have much of a choice.

“I’m not thinking, I’m assuming because I hear that’s what happens when you get drunk off your ass because you apparently have zero tolerance,” Arin says, wincing.

“Nah,” Dan says, shaking his head. It’s impossible to decide if the sudden bout of queasiness he feels is because of the hangover, relief, or disappointment.

“You didn’t fuck anything up. We both made it home, you didn’t die, and you didn’t even throw up on my floor. I’d say that’s good,” Dan says, brushing hair out of Arin’s eyes before he realizes what he’s doing.

“Hmph,” Arin huffs.

Dan doesn’t think it sounds particularly much like Arin buys it, but he at least closes his eyes again, so perhaps it’s all good for now.

“I’ll make coffee and get you some water with your painkillers.” he says. “Go back to sleep, I’ll wake you up later.”

Arin makes a small noise again, but it’s softer this time, a little more fond.

**Author's Note:**

> So this was written for an anon request at my grumps-tumblr damnavidans. The prompt was for Dan and Arin being out one evening when Arin says he wants to try alcohol, and for me to make up the rest! I hope this is good with you nonny! <3


End file.
